


Downtrodden; adj. afflicted, abused, a slave to

by twinkminseok



Category: EXO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:32:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9414146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkminseok/pseuds/twinkminseok
Summary: Janurary 7, 2017





	

**Author's Note:**

> January 7, 2017

I don’t know. I want to delete this, I really do but I’m not sure if I can? It’s not really something I would say I simply forgot, but for lack of better word, I suppressed. I sought therapy and I was ready to say ‘no’ instead of nodding my head and pretending I wanted it. Without the money required for professional help I couldn’t really do anything and after a few days I was okay. I thought I was over it and I could just live with it, that’s what it was just a thought. Why today? I don’t know. I’m not hesitant to type I just legitimately do not have a clue as to what happened, what I’m feeling, what I’m thinking. My heart was racing along with my thoughts, both running down a dangerous path that I rather not get into but reluctantly have the need to. I was overwhelmed by tears and I couldn’t breathe although I was, at the same time, breathing too much, too fast. Hyperventilating? Maybe. It was simple for me to calm down by repeating ‘you’re okay, I’m okay’ like a mantra in my head, not daring to speak my thoughts aloud for fear of what others might say as if I’m not already a walking rumor. Just like that they were gone and for a moment I truly believed the horrors weren’t rampaging in my head and knocking down every safe wall I had built. I was left in pure confusion and even now the aftershock hasn’t worn away. I don’t know. I feel empty, truly empty. The only hint of emotion is a tsunami of sadness that threatens to drown me if let loose and I am absolutely terrified for I don’t have a clue how to swim. I remember thinking “I am Tae,” the one who feels the ghost of hands consuming him almost every night and the fear escalates to a point where venturing to see if you can fly when falling from a cliff doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. Except for me it’s the memories, the hushed whispers, the hands, the thoughts that are screaming to be voiced out, to be acted upon. I will never tell someone about what the whispers tell me because I don’t need anyone to save me from my own fears. I can save myself, I can say no, yet as I attempt to calm my ragged breathing and broken self by whispering these reassuring words into the dense air, at the back of my head I know my attempt at self-salvation is futile. I know when the all too familiar words in a hushed tone with a sense of urgency are said and I look up to meet dark eyes clouded with lust, my body will loose all strength and I won’t say no. I won’t voice that I don’t want to, that I never wanted to, that it hurts. My sense of reason pounding at my head, screaming, begging me to make it stop because it just hurts so much. Eventually the uncertainty fades, leaving a dull pain I have no choice but to accept. The only thing in my head are the voices telling me that this is what I deserve, this is the only thing I’m good for. I am nothing and I do not deserve to want anything better. I know that, I do. On days like today the feeling of hope disintegrates with the realization that I can’t do anything. I am incapable, weak and I can’t save myself like I so confidently promised myself that I could.


End file.
